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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22729945">What Follows (has led me to this place)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySlytherin/pseuds/LadySlytherin'>LadySlytherin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>My Heart Belongs to Daddy [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftercare, Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Baby Boy Stiles Stilinski, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Collars, Come Eating, Consensual Underage Sex, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Face-Fucking, Facials, Father/Son Incest, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Feeding, Humiliation, Incest, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, PWP, Parent/Child Incest, Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-Season/Series 03B AU, Power Play, Praise Kink, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Safeword Use, Safewords, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is Noah, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M, Under-negotiated Kink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 17:01:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22729945</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySlytherin/pseuds/LadySlytherin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that he's settled into his role as his dad's submissive, Stiles is doing <i>much</i> better. But there's still the minor issue of Peter Hale knowing the truth, and it needs to be dealt with. Noah has a unique way of handling things.</p><p> <i>or</i></p><p>The Big Bad Wolf comes to dinner, and the Sheriff reminds everyone of who's in charge.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Hale/Sheriff Stilinski/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>My Heart Belongs to Daddy [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1632145</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>494</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>What Follows (has led me to this place)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">

        <li>
          Translation into Português brasileiro available: 
            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22978273">Jantar com o Lobo Mau</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leex2ndre/pseuds/Leex2ndre">Leex2ndre</a>
        </li>


    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, I never intended to write a sequel to <i>You're the One That I Want</i> but here we are. Sometimes, shit happens and I just get inspired.</p><p>This fic has a stronger BDSM element to it, including some more intense/darker BDSM scene play. But there is both off-screen and on-screen negotiation, as well as pre-existing limits/boundaries between Noah and Stiles. And everything is completely consensual between all parties. All is legal and well, excepting the fact that Stiles is, of course, still underage by the laws of the state of California, where he resides. Oh, and the incest. I forget sometimes that, in most states, even consensual incest is illegal. Ah, well. No relationship is perfect.</p><p>I will admit, right off the bat, that the ending of this took me a little by surprise. It wasn't planned, or intended; it's just something that sort of happened organically as I wrote. Also, there's a possibility I'll continue this series at some point, given how I left things at the end, but there's no timeline for if/when it'll happen.</p><p>A huge thank you to my team of lovely pre-readers, who helped me through this piece and were kind enough to watch for typos. All remaining mistakes are my own. Ladies, you know who you are and you know I love each and every one of you. I don't know what'd I'd do without you, my darlings. ❤️</p><p>I hope you all enjoy this latest installment. Remember that comments are love, and leave me some down below!</p><p>~ Sly</p><p>P.S. - I am adding this to point out that this fic is part of a series. The first story informs this one, quite a lot. While it could technically be read as a standalone, it won't make near as much sense that way. At this point in the in-story universe, Stiles and Noah are in a months-long established relationship, wherein they know each other's limits and boundaries and likes and dislikes. They're comfortable with each other and their dynamic. And if a reader doesn't know this fact, it might make Noah's behavior seem overly forward/domineering/controlling. However, in the context of the <i>series,</i> it's clear that Stiles and Noah have these pre-established limits and such all worked out. I hope this clarifies things somewhat, as there seems to be some confusion regarding certain things not being talked about in-fic, but that's because there's been months of relationship prior to this wherein such discussions most certainly took place and do not need to be rehashed on-screen now.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Noah watched Stiles dancing around the kitchen in cozy plaid pajama pants and a snug graphic tee as he cooked. There was something indefinably graceful about the way his son moved; the way his hips shifted as he danced. It was funny, almost, because Stiles had a tendency to trip over himself a lot of the time and was, as a general rule, fairly grace<em>less.</em> But when he danced, it was different. It was like the part of his brain that was thinking too much and making him clumsy shut itself off, and his body turned to poetry in motion. The only other time Stiles moved so sinuously was during sex. Noah raked his eyes over Stiles’ body again, heat flaring to life low in his belly like it always did when he watched his son.</p><p>Stiles turned to shoot him a coy look over his shoulder, fluttering his eyelashes as he asked. “See something you like, Daddy?” He shook his ass again, tempting and flirtatious.</p><p>“Brat.” Noah groaned even as he crossed the room, slotting himself against Stiles’ back. Stiles’ ass cradled his hips and he ground himself against the teen, just a little, even as he pressed a kiss to the side of Stiles’ throat, murmuring. “Keep teasing me and I’m going to take you up against the counter, dinner be damned.”</p><p>Stiles laughed, low and wicked, but he slipped himself out of Noah’s grasp. Shaking his finger at his dad, he chided. “Go set the table. I told you, we’re having company tonight. He’ll probably be here soon and I’d like to have everything ready.”</p><p>Noah reached out, fisting his hand in Stiles’ hair and <em>pulling.</em> Stiles gasped, pupils blown wide in the instant before Noah leaned in and crushed those full lips beneath his own. He kept it brief because Stiles really <em>had</em> said they were having company, though he wouldn’t tell Noah who, only that it was a pack member. But he made it filthy enough that, when he drew back, Stiles’ eyes were a bit unfocused and his lips were a little redder than normal; a little puffy and kiss-bruised.</p><p>“Mmmm...” Stiles let out a sighing breath, tongue sliding slowly over his own bottom lip. His eyes fluttered closed as though he were savoring the taste of Noah that lingered there. Then, he shook his head slightly and murmured. “Dinner. I need to finish cooking.”</p><p>Deeply satisfied with that response, Noah was whistling as he headed into the dining room to set the table for three. When the doorbell rang a moment later, Stiles called from the kitchen. “Can you get that, Daddy? I don’t want this to burn!”</p><p>Halfway expecting it to be Scott - and a little less than that expecting it to be Derek - Noah didn’t hesitate to do as Stiles asked. He loved Scott like a second son, after all, and he’d become very fond of Derek since learning about the supernatural and better understanding everything the younger man had suffered through. So when Noah pulled open the front door a minute later, he froze. Because standing on his front porch was the <em>last</em> person he’d have ever expected to see there. <em>Peter Hale.</em></p><p>With an annoyed sound, Noah turned on his heel and stalked back to the kitchen. He stepped into the room, crossed his arms angrily over his chest, and demanded sharply. “Dammit, Stiles, why the hell is <em>Peter </em>here?”</p><p>“He’s here for dinner.” Stiles said, tone level and placid, as though this were an everyday sort of occurrence and in no way unexpected or alarming. “Is the table set? Because this is just about done. Can you see what Peter wants to drink, Daddy?”</p><p>The softly uttered title - something Stiles only ever used when they were alone - sent a little thrill through Noah that was part arousal and part fear. He knew Peter was a werewolf; knew the man had undoubtedly heard Stiles call him <em>daddy</em> just now. He wondered what Peter would think of that. If he would attribute it to Stiles acting childish, or to Stiles’ general quirkiness. Wondered if there was any chance that Peter would take it the way Stiles meant it. Then, he wondered why Stiles was risking such a thing, as he’d been especially careful to be discreet around the pack and their heightened senses.</p><p>Even more uneasy now, Noah went back to the dining room to finish setting the table...and to get their damn guest a drink, apparently. Except when he got there, Peter was using one finger to nudge the last fork into place. The table settings were far more precise in their placement than Noah would have bothered with, and the pretension of this man in <em>his</em> home set Noah’s teeth on edge.</p><p>Peter glanced at him, amusement shining in his bright blue eyes, and drawled. “I don’t suppose you have wine?”</p><p>“Of course we have wine, Peter.” Stiles rolled his eyes as he strolled into the room. He set down a plate that had half a dozen pan-cooked swordfish steaks on it, adding. “Come into the kitchen and pour it yourself, would you? You can carry the bread in for me, too.”</p><p>Noah almost followed them, but at the last moment decided not to. Instead, he sat in his usual seat at the head of the table and waited. Stiles was back a moment later, setting down a dish of roasted red potatoes before disappearing back into the kitchen. He did shoot Noah a soft, reassuring smile and Noah did his best to trust Stiles. His son usually knew what he was doing, after all.</p><p>When Stiles returned again, it was with a dish of asparagus in one hand and a pretty glass bowl full of olive oil and garlic and herbs. Peter followed close behind, carrying a glass of white wine and a basket filled with slices of the fresh baguette Stiles had picked up from the bakery that afternoon.</p><p>“Do you want wine, Daddy?” Stiles asked innocently, and Noah had to use every ounce of his control not to react.</p><p>After swallowing carefully - and when he was fairly certain he could trust his voice - Noah said. “A glass of wine would be great, kiddo.” It took everything in Noah not to say <em>baby boy</em> instead, but he managed to leash his tongue.</p><p>There was a pause, then Peter - who had seated himself to Noah’s right - said softly. “Do you think Stiles should have a glass as well, Noah? I do realize you’re the sheriff, of course, but a glass of wine with dinner seems harmless enough. And it seems a crime to drink anything lesser with such a lovely meal.”</p><p>“Oh, no, I don-”</p><p>“I think that’s a great idea.” Noah broke in, cutting off Stiles’ protests. His son looked at him, surprised, and Noah smiled slightly. <em>“One</em> glass, Stiles. Okay?”</p><p>Stiles nodded, then slipped off to the kitchen to get their wine. Peter took a small sip of his own, eyes studying Noah intently. After he’d set his glass on the table, Peter raised an eyebrow at Noah and asked quietly. “Did he tell you why I’m here?”</p><p>“He didn’t.” Noah said, offering nothing else. He trusted Stiles, even if he didn’t trust Peter, and he knew his son had to have a good reason for this.</p><p>Peter merely hummed, as though thinking that over. Stiles was back a moment later, cheeks a little pink as he set one glass in front of Noah before taking his own seat, across from Peter and to Noah’s left. He flicked his eyes anxiously between the two older men, then said. “Well, dig in. I hope everyone likes it. I don’t make fish much and this is my first time with this particular recipe, so...”</p><p>He trailed off, looking uncertain. Noah and Peter obligingly filled their plates. As Stiles took his own portion, Peter placed a bite of the swordfish into his mouth. A moment later he moaned, eyes closing for a moment as he chewed.</p><p>Once he’d swallowed, Peter pinned Stiles with those too-blue eyes of his and offered sincerely. “It’s positively delicious, pet. Thank you for cooking.”</p><p>Stiles’ cheeks flushed darker and Noah tensed a little. His son responded beautifully to praise - he always had - and normally Noah loved that fact. It rubbed him wrong, though, to see Stiles respond that way to <em>Peter.</em> Because Peter Hale was gorgeous, and wealthy. He was younger than Noah, but still a good number of years older than Stiles. He was also a dom, though Noah couldn't have said why he was so certain of that as he’d certainly never seen Peter in a situation that would confirm such a thing. There was just something about him that told Noah everything he needed to know. Something about the way Peter moved and spoke; something about the way he looked at Stiles.</p><p>“I’m glad you like it.” Stiles said, sitting up a little straighter as he started eating. After a moment, he flicked his eyes to Noah and said. “You’re not eating. Do you not like it, Daddy?”</p><p>Noah forced himself to smile at his son. “It’s delicious, Stiles. You know I love your cooking.”</p><p>Noah began eating again, doing his best to filter out the dark and dangerous tone to Peter’s voice as the werewolf spoke to Stiles. He didn’t know what they were talking about - pack things, from what little he was gleaning - but the truth was, Noah didn’t care. He didn’t want to listen, or participate. He didn’t like the hungry way Peter watched Stiles. He didn’t like the seductive lilt to the man’s voice. He didn’t like the way Stiles seemed to <em>respond</em> to Peter, either. It worried him, if he was being honest. Because if Stiles realized someone else could give him what Noah was - that another dom <em>wanted him</em> - then it was possible that Stiles would choose that other dom.</p><p>There was so much about their relationship that was impossibly difficult. The secrecy. The fear of discovery. The knowledge that no one would understand, or approve. It was a lot to ask of anyone, let alone someone as young as Stiles. And Noah knew that if Stiles decided he couldn't do it anymore, that he would accept it because this was - this had always been -<em> Stiles’ </em>choice. But dammit, it would kill him to lose his son now that he’d had him.</p><p>When they had finished eating, Stiles stood and began clearing the dishes. Noah let him, because they had a routine and not even Peter’s presence was going to upset that. Not if Noah had anything to say about it, that is. Stiles enjoyed cooking - said he liked taking care of <em>his daddy</em> - and when he’d done a good job cleaning up afterwards, Noah always rewarded him. Just like he rewarded Stiles for doing well in school, and for taking care of himself physically. As in, sleeping and eating properly, as well as <em>not</em> abusing his adderall. Noah paid attention to every detail, and Stiles was now thriving because of that care. So Noah sipped at the wine in the glass Stiles had topped off a few minutes earlier and watched his son stack dishes and silverware, making no move to help.</p><p>“Can I do anything?” Peter asked softly, watching as Stiles circled behind Noah’s chair so he could get to the things on Peter’s side of the table.</p><p>“No, I’m good.” Stiles said, flashing a grin at Peter. As he gathered things, a serving spoon went tumbling to the floor. Stiles laughed, rolling his eyes at himself and muttering a soft <em>whoops</em> even as he reached down and picked it up.</p><p>Noah watched in confusion as Peter’s eyes suddenly glowed a bright and burning blue, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply. Stiles went still, standing poised between Peter and Noah’s seats, the serving spoon clenched in a white-knuckled grip. “Peter...” Stiles’ tone was pleading and wary, but more than that it was edged in a kind of desperation that had Noah instantly alert.</p><p>Peter rumbled out a low growl even as his eyes faded back to their normal color. His voice was a mix of amusement and lust as he said. “You don’t get to scold me, Stiles, when you sat through this dinner with a plug up your pretty ass. You <em>knew</em> I’d notice eventually, as I’ve told you your scent changes when you have it in.” His nostrils flared again and he murmured huskily. “You always smell like loam and growing things, but with the plug...your scent goes <em>lush</em> when you’re wearing it.”</p><p>Fury surged through Noah and he shoved himself to standing, glaring at Peter even as he snarled. “If you <em>ever</em> say something like that about my son again, I swear-”</p><p>“You’ll do what?” Peter laughed, smirking and not bothering to rise, as though Noah’s anger were of very little concern to him. His eyes flicked to Stiles again, something predatory about the look on his face as he said. “Did you know you’re arousing him with your jealousy, Noah? There’s this slick-hot edge to his scent now that wasn’t there until you stood up to threaten me.”</p><p>Noah sat again, about as quickly as he’d stood, and tried to tell himself he <em>hadn't </em>just collapsed. He’d just sat down, that was all. His heart was racing, so that its pounding beat was all he could hear for a long moment. Then, Stiles’ voice filtered in, sharp and angry.</p><p>“Dammit, Peter, if you’ve given him a heart attack, I’ll never forgive you!”</p><p>Stiles’ hands cupped his cheeks, and Noah noted that his son looked worried. “Dad, are you okay? I’m so sorry, I...I should have told you that he knew. That he...he figured it out. He told me as much a couple of weeks ago, but it’s not...he’s not going to tell anyone, I swear. <em>He</em> swears.”</p><p>“Stiles-”</p><p>“No, Dad, just...just listen, okay?” Stiles cut him off, releasing Noah’s face so he could pace in a small semi-circle, from one side of Noah’s chair, around behind him and then behind Peter to the far side of <em>his</em> chair, then back again. The nervous energy he was giving off was almost manic. “The pack was getting suspicious, okay? And Peter helped misdirect them. He...he let Derek catch us in a position that looked intimate and it made Derek certain that <em>Peter</em> is my dom, and I went with it because...well, because I didn’t know what else <em>to</em> do, really. It’s not like I could tell the truth. And this way, the pack isn’t asking any questions because they think they have the answer already.”</p><p>“I apologize.” Peter said softly, and Noah had to admit the man sounded sincere. A sharp glance over showed that his expression was contrite as well. “I’m afraid my sense of humor is something of an acquired taste. I only meant to tease Stiles. I assumed he’d told you that I knew. I also assumed that’s why you were glaring at me.”</p><p>“No, that would be because I don’t like the way you look at Stiles.” Noah muttered, but his heart was steadying itself now and he could feel himself relaxing.</p><p>Weeks, Stiles had said. Peter had known <em>for weeks,</em> and he’d held his tongue. More to the point, he’d actually helped Stiles keep things a secret, if he’d understood Stiles correctly. It was unnerving, to know that someone else was aware of what he and Stiles were doing, but it was also a relief to know that Peter had helped protect their secret.</p><p>Curious, Noah pinned Peter with a hard look and asked. “Why?”</p><p>“I’m rather fond of Stiles.” Peter admitted, shrugging a little. “I can see the changes this development has wrought in him. He’s better for it. I’m a practical enough person that I’m not going to split hairs over the means when the end is something so blatantly positive.”</p><p>Noah considered that for several moments before nodding slowly. When he spoke again, his words were directed at Stiles, though he never took his eyes off Peter. “Finish cleaning up, Stiles. Then bring in coffee and dessert.”</p><p>Stiles twitched, seeming torn, so Noah firmed his voice. <em>“Now,</em> baby boy.”</p><p>“Yes, Daddy.” Stiles said, the words automatic in a way he never tried to fight.</p><p>Noah waited until Stiles had carried everything into the kitchen. It took him three trips to clear the table fully, but that was fine. Noah could be patient when he needed to be. Once he was sure Stiles wasn’t coming back for a little while - he’d need to pack up the leftover food, deal with the dinner dishes, make coffee, and plate dessert - Noah turned his attention fully to Peter.</p><p>“Do you want to fuck him?”</p><p>Peter didn’t flinch at the question. Instead, he shrugged and answered easily. “If the correct circumstances presented themselves - namely, consent from all parties necessary - I certainly wouldn’t turn down the opportunity. Stiles is beautiful, after all. And, as I said, I’m fond of him.”</p><p>“Let me rephrase the question.” Noah said coolly. “Are you doing this - offering to help him keep his relationship with me a secret - because you want to fuck him?”</p><p>Peter tipped his head to one side a little, like an inquisitive animal, then smiled slowly. “You’re asking if I think that Stiles will feel so indebted to me that he’ll let me fuck him.” Peter chuckled. “No, Noah. I’m neither stupid nor foolish. If Stiles felt he owed me something, he would find a way to repay that debt. Of that, I have no doubt. But he’d never offer <em>himself</em> as repayment. Not to me, or anyone else. It’s simply not who he is.”</p><p>Noah relaxed even more at the honesty in those words. “Good.”</p><p>He considered Peter again, a little more objectively this time; studied him carefully. The way Peter’s hair was artfully tousled, so that it looked effortless and utterly touchable. The wicked gleam in those intense blue eyes, and the full curve of a mouth that could only be described as <em>sensual.</em> The way the dark blue button up strained just slightly against Peter’s broad shoulders and muscled arms when he shifted. The tantalizing glimpse of Peter’s throat and chest, bared by the three buttons he’d left undone. The deft, confident way Peter moved; the surety in his every action, no matter how small or seemingly simple. It was clear that Peter had the kind of looks, money, and breeding most people only dreamed of.</p><p>And quite suddenly, Noah was considering not just Peter but also the possibilities.</p><p>Stiles slipped back into the room, bearing a plate of cookies and a carafe of coffee. He disappeared again, reappearing moments later with mugs, then with cream and sugar. Finally he came back with small plates and spoons for stirring and went to take his seat. Noah stopped him with a word.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Stiles froze, but turned obediently to Noah and waited. Noah gestured to the floor beside his feet, on the side where Peter was seated. He waited as his son seemed to overcome a flicker of uncertainty before complying. He circled back around the table, then sank gracefully to his knees beside Noah’s chair. He cast a quick, nervous glance up at Peter, then settled into the proper pose and posture, just the way Noah had taught him. </p><p>“I’d put your posture collar on you...” Noah murmured, fixing his coffee as he spoke. “But I’d imagine we’ll move into the living room shortly so you won’t have to hold the pose long. You can manage without it, can’t you, baby?”</p><p>“Yes, Daddy.” Stiles whispered back.</p><p>Noah hummed agreeably, then gestured to the coffee carafe. “Help yourself, Peter.”</p><p>Peter dragged his eyes away from Stiles and made himself a cup of coffee. He selected a cookie and bit into it, making a pleased noise. “Christ, but the food in this house is <em>sinful.”</em></p><p>“Not only the food.” Noah muttered, and Peter’s quick laugh told him the werewolf had heard it. Shaking his head, Noah said. “They’re called <em>rugelach.</em> Stiles makes them. There’s several flavors, and I honestly couldn't even pick a favorite.”</p><p>“It’s my mom’s recipe.” Stiles offered softly, though he didn’t move an inch of his body, other than his mouth.</p><p>Still, Noah chided him. “Silence, baby boy. I know you’re not gagged, but unless I speak to you directly, the rules of the pose still apply.”</p><p>“Yes, Daddy.” Stiles said immediately, adding. “Sorry, Daddy.”</p><p>“I’ll forgive it this once, because you’re not used to company.” Noah allowed, then turned his attention back to Peter. “It <em>is</em> Claudia’s recipe, but I’ll be honest with you. Stiles makes them better than my wife ever did. He’s got a gift for both cooking and baking.”</p><p>“So I see.” Peter bit into another cookie - his third or fourth already, Noah thought - and made another pleased sound. “Jesus, is this <em>chocolate?</em> These ought to be illegal.”</p><p>Noah chuckled, picking up another of the chocolate ones and breaking off a small piece. It was flaky and a little messy, but that was fine. He lowered his hand, holding the morsel of cookie right in front of Stiles’ mouth. His son parted his lips, tongue darting out eagerly to lick the pastry and filling from Noah’s fingers. Noah slowly fed him the rest of the cookie the same way, casually talking to Peter about local news and politics and such. Boring, casual conversation, really.</p><p>And Peter allowed it, seeming content to discuss the repaving happening downtown and the town’s upcoming Founders’ Day celebration, which had always been very Hale-centric and was swiftly becoming that way again, now that there were Hales once again living in town. His eyes, however, were avariciously taking in every flick of Stiles’ tongue as he sweetly consumed the treat Noah was feeding him. Stiles’ face was flushed, and Noah knew from experience that the color would continue down his throat, to the top of his chest. He wondered how much of that blush was from arousal versus embarrassment, but Stiles knew how to safeword out if he felt uncomfortable and Noah trusted his son to know his own limits. So long as Stiles wasn’t saying <em>stop,</em> Noah would continue to enjoy himself.</p><p>As Peter reached for another cookie - apricot this time, which was a sticky one - Noah spoke in the same casual tone he’d been using since Stiles brought in dessert. “There was some debate about the fireworks this year, given how dry it’s been, but it seems like they’re going to do them anyway.” He paused a beat, then added in that same easy tone. “You can give Stiles a taste of that, if you want. The chocolate’s his favorite, but the apricot’s a close second.”</p><p>Peter jerked slightly, clearly startled. He gaped at Noah for a moment, then flicked his eyes down to where Stiles was kneeling, essentially between them if a small bit closer to Noah’s chair then Peter’s. Still, he was well within the werewolf’s reach. Noah said nothing else about the cookie, instead continuing on with the conversation about the Founders’ Day festivities. “I suppose I can understand wanting to do them, but if the Preserve goes up in flames it won’t be pretty.”</p><p>“Yes, well.” Peter cleared his throat, seeming uncertain for the first time all evening, but Noah noted with interest that he was breaking off a small piece of the cookie, which proceeded to adhere to his fingers in a crumbling, sticky-sweet mess. “I’d imagine the mayor and the committee are more concerned with the riot that would surely occur if they nixed the fireworks than with the possibility of a fire. And there are no doubt precautions they can take.”</p><p>“True enough.” Noah agreed, watching as Peter slowly lowered his hand until the tips of his fingers were hovering right in front of Stiles’ mouth. “After the fiasco ten years ago when they tried to cancel the pie-eating contest because it wasn’t <em>healthy,</em> I’d imagine they’re wary of messing with the traditions of the event.”</p><p>Peter said nothing back, but Noah didn’t blame him. Stiles’ tongue had come out, delicately licking the gooey apricot filling off of Peter’s fingers. The werewolf made a strangled sound in the back of his throat when Stiles sucked Peter’s thumb into his mouth to clean it properly. When Stiles released his thumb with a soft, wet <em>pop,</em> Noah couldn't help smirking at the blatant <em>hunger</em> on Peter’s face.</p><p>“Now, don’t tease him, Peter.” Noah said, voice quiet but firm. “Stiles has been very well-behaved and deserves the whole thing, wouldn’t you agree?”</p><p>Peter nodded, immediately breaking off another small bit and extending it to Stiles. By the time Stiles had licked every last crumb of the apricot rugelach from Peter’s fingers, the other man looked <em>wrecked.</em> His eyes were dark and heated and he kept making this rumbling growl deep in his chest that Noah had a feeling was at least mostly unintentional.</p><p>Smiling slightly, Noah stood. “Let’s move into the living room. It’s more comfortable.” </p><p>Peter stood as well, and Noah gestured for the other man to precede him. When Stiles moved to start clearing the table again, Noah stopped him. “Not right now, baby. Come.”</p><p>Stiles immediately set down the things he’d picked up and turned to follow Noah. Peter was sitting on one end of the couch, looking slightly calmer than he had in the dining room. Noah smirked, deciding that was going to have to be fixed. He liked Peter better when he was off-balance; it was amusing. Quickly considering his options, Noah settled himself on the comfortable leather armchair. Stiles moved close, standing beside Noah’s chair with a glassy-eyed look that told Noah he was already settling into subspace, despite nothing much having happened yet.</p><p>But then, Stiles’ responsiveness and perfect submission were some of Noah’s favorite things about his son, so he wasn’t about to complain.</p><p>He reached out and tugged Stiles onto his lap, positioning him so he was sitting with his back to Noah’s chest. His legs were slightly parted, resting on either side of Noah’s. Noah gently coaxed his son to settle against him, until Stiles had his head tipped back against Noah’s shoulder, his whole body limp and malleable. Noah knew he could move Stiles however he wanted and the teen would allow it. The fact that they had an audience - for the first time ever - didn’t seem to be detering Stiles’ behavior any more than it was Noah’s. </p><p>Noah looked at Peter, meeting his eyes levelly for a moment before dropping his gaze to where his hand was slowly pushing up Stiles’ t-shirt. “He really is beautiful, isn’t he?” Noah asked conversationally, as though he were asking about the weather.</p><p>Peter’s eyes lowered as well and Noah watched the pupils blow wide as he took in the sight of Stiles’ flat belly, quivering beneath Noah’s soft touches. “Yes, he is.” Peter agreed, licking his lips as his gaze riveted on where the outline of Stiles’ hardening cock was visible beneath the thin cotton of his sleep pants. “I have to admit, you’re a very lucky man.”</p><p>“Mmmm...yes, I am.” Noah agreed, turning to nuzzle into Stiles’ throat. Slowly - very slowly - Noah spread his own legs, forcing Stiles’ legs wider at the same time. When Stiles whimpered, Noah kissed the spot behind his son’s ear and murmured. “Color?”</p><p>“I-i...” Stiles shivered, his hips arching up just the littlest bit as Noah’s fingers traced the waistband of his pants. Then, in a breathless voice, he whispered. “Green. I’m always green for you, Daddy. Whatever you want.”</p><p>Peter growled and Noah flicked his eyes to the werewolf, noting the man’s glowing eyes and the way his fingers were tipped by claws. He looked like he was barely restraining himself from moving closer; from reaching out and touching.</p><p>Forcing his voice to stay steady - to stay <em>casual</em> - Noah asked Stiles another question, but this time at normal volume. “Do you like that Peter’s watching you, baby boy? Do you like him seeing what a slut you are for your daddy?”</p><p>“Y-yes...” Stiles panted, squirming a little on Noah’s lap and then keening softly when Noah’s hand slid fully beneath the waistband. “Daddy!” Stiles cried out.</p><p>Stiles’ eyes fell closed even as his lips parted on a ragged sort of moan as Noah curled his hand around the teen’s cock. The sleep pants protected Stiles’ modesty, but there was no doubt about what was happening beneath that fabric. Tearing his eyes away from Stiles’ sweet face, Noah met Peter’s eyes again. The werewolf looked like he was <em>salivating</em> at the sight of Stiles so needy and desperate, and it didn’t seem to bother him at all that it was Noah - that it was <em>Stiles’ own father</em> - who was making Stiles writhe in pleasure. He looked like he would eagerly join in; like he would swallow Stiles down in quick, greedy gulps if Noah would only let him.</p><p>“Do you want Peter to touch you, baby boy?”</p><p>Stiles made a soft sound that was almost a sob, but gave no other answer. And, well, that just wasn’t going to do, now was it? Noah stilled the hand caressing Stiles’ cock and asked again. “Do you want Peter to touch you? Do you want his hands on you? His mouth? His <em>cock?”</em></p><p>“I...D-daddy, I...” Stiles’ breathing was quick and his heart beat frantically in his chest. Noah watched his face carefully, looking for uncertainty or reluctance, but he saw neither. Stiles seemed a bit overwhelmed, but not unwilling.</p><p>And, finally, Stiles nodded, whining softly. “Yes.” He whispered, licking his lips as his unfocused gaze flitted between Peter and Noah. “Want him. W-want <em>both</em> of you. P-please...<em>please,</em> Daddy...”</p><p>Noah cut his eyes to Peter and said simply. “What my baby wants, my baby gets. Would you like to touch him?”</p><p><em>“Christ.” </em>Peter breathed, sounding almost reverent. “Yes. <em>Yes,</em> absolutely.” He was kneeling between Noah’s spread legs - which also slotted him neatly between <em>Stiles’</em> spread legs - a moment later. He glanced up at Noah and asked. “What am I allowed to do?”</p><p>Relief and a sense of satisfaction curled through his chest at that, because <em>damn right</em> Peter was asking him for permission. Stiles had given consent, and that absolutely mattered. But it was <em>Noah</em> who controlled Stiles, and therefore it was Noah who controlled this scene. Stiles was <em>his,</em> and that meant it was his choice what and when and where and how Peter was allowed to touch. The other man was a dom, no doubt, but he was <em>not</em> the master of this scene. That role was Noah’s, and Noah’s alone.</p><p>It had been <em>years</em> since Noah had been in control of another dom this way, with a submissive of his own to share - <em>or not</em> - as he chose. The heady thrill of it whipped through him, bright and burning, and he rode the crest of it eagerly. He remembered this now; the power that came from dominating someone who didn’t normally cede control. The wild rush of it, and the overall exhilaration he always felt whenever Stiles submitted to him, had Noah feeling generous. Towards Stiles <em>and</em> Peter.</p><p>“Stiles has been so well-behaved tonight.” Noah murmured, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ slightly sweaty, tousled hair. “And he cooked us <em>such</em> a nice meal, wouldn’t you agree?”</p><p>“Absolutely.” Peter agreed without hesitation.</p><p>Noah smirked, then asked. “And wouldn’t you say that merits a reward? A special sort of treat, for being <em>such</em> a good boy.”</p><p>Peter nodded, eyes gleaming brightly as he let his gaze drift down to where Noah was once again stroking Stiles’ cock beneath the pajama pants. “Yes.” He rumbled, low and deep in his chest again, before adding huskily. “Good boys deserve to be rewarded. Praised. <em>Worshiped.”</em></p><p><em>‘Ah,’ </em>Noah thought, something about Peter’s words clicking things into place for him. <em>‘He’s one of </em>those<em> sorts of doms.’</em></p><p>Wanting it confirmed, Noah asked lowly. “You’re a service dom, aren’t you?”</p><p>Peter nodded immediately, though he added. "Most of the time, yes. I've been known to switch now and then. And I'm also a bit of a sadist, which makes for an interesting sort of <i>service,</i> as you can imagine. Is that an issue?”</p><p>“Not at all.” Noah smiled slowly at Peter, knowing it was a dangerous, heated sort of smile and relishing the way Peter stilled at seeing it. “It places you above Stiles in this scene...but below me. Since that’s right where I want you, it should work out just fine.”</p><p>Noah gestured for Peter to scooch back slightly, which he did without hesitation. Noah addressed his son first. “Stiles, can you take Peter up to our room? I’ll join you in a moment. I expect <em>you </em>to be naked by the time I get up there.”</p><p>“Yes, Daddy.” Stiles murmured, getting off Noah’s lap. He swayed for a moment, then seemed to steady himself.</p><p>Noah flicked his eyes to Peter, then said. “Keep your pants on until I get up there. You can touch Stiles, but you aren’t allowed to mark him up. He bruises real easy, so be careful. Don’t touch his collar <em>at all,</em> and don’t penetrate him or remove his plug. He can touch your cock, but only through the barrier of clothing. Stiles isn’t allowed release without my express permission. His safeword is <em>red.</em> Am I making myself clear?”</p><p>“Yes, sir.” Peter inclined his head, smirking now. He got to his feet, then turned to Stiles. “Come on then, pet. Show me where your room is. I’m eager to see all of you.”</p><p>Stiles started for the stairs and Noah heard him ask. “What do I call you?”</p><p>Peter hummed consideringly, then said. “Sir, as you already have a <em>daddy.”</em></p><p>“Yes, sir.” Stiles murmured back, and then he was disappearing up the stairs with Peter.</p><p>Noah let them go, taking a moment to center himself. Controlling a submissive - or even a <em>group</em> of submissives - was different in several ways from controlling a scene that involved another dom. True, a service dom like Peter was easier to control - less likely to try to wrest control of the scene from him than other types of doms would be - but he would still push. He would still test boundaries. He might balk at Noah’s commands, or try to work his way around them, if they didn’t suit him well enough. It took a firm hand to control another dom. Thankfully, Noah was confident he was up to the task. A bit rusty, perhaps, but more than capable. And...</p><p>...he had a plan.</p><p>Once he felt steadier - calmer; more focused; more in control - Noah headed for the stairs.</p><p>~*~*~*~</p><p>Stiles led Peter into his dad’s room. The room he <em>shared</em> with his dad, honestly, though he maintained his own room as well for several reasons. His head felt kind of vague; a little soft and fuzzy. Not like it would by the time they were done, he was sure; Stiles wasn’t very far gone yet. He was still in control of himself, and coherent enough to have thought to ask Peter what he ought to be calling the man during this scene. But Stiles was settled enough to feel nice; to keep him from feeling awkward or anxious. He liked the surety that came with the altered headspace; the certainty that someone else was calling the shots and all he had to was relax and enjoy himself. Stiles stopped next to the bed and immediately tugged his t-shirt off, flicking it onto the wooden rocking chair that had belonged to his mother and which still sat in the corner of the room. As Stiles slid his fingers into the waistband of his sleep pants - he had his orders, after all - Peter’s strong hand curled around his wrists.</p><p>He paused, looking up into Peter’s eyes, and Peter pulled his hands away from the waistband. Shivering  a little, Stiles said softly. “I need to strip, sir. I have orders.”</p><p>“So you do.” Peter agreed, a smile curving his sensual lips into something dark and seductive. “And as I’ll hear your father the moment he starts up the stairs, I assure you, you’ll be stripped bare by the time he reaches us.”</p><p>Peter released his wrists, then lightly skimmed his fingertips down the thin trail of dark hair below Stiles’ navel. “Let me.” Peter murmured, eyes riveted on his own hand.</p><p>Stiles nodded, a little too breathless to speak. Noah was the only person who’d ever seen him like this; touched him like this. He wasn’t sure how he would have felt about Peter touching him, if it hadn't been for the way his dad <em>- his daddy</em> - had looked at him when he’d been licking rugelach from Peter’s fingers. It was a heady rush, when he could make Noah look like that: dark, and dangerous, and hungry. It wasn’t like Peter wasn’t gorgeous; <em>all</em> of the Hales were, obviously. And Stiles had definitely entertained a fantasy or two about Peter, since first meeting the man, so it wasn't that he wasn't attracted to Peter. It was just that Stiles belonged to Noah and he couldn't imagine letting someone else touch him; couldn't imagine hurting his dad that way.</p><p>It was different, though, now that Noah had given permission. Now that he’d said he <em>wanted</em> Peter to touch Stiles. It wouldn't hurt Noah, because his daddy <em>wanted</em> to share him, and that was new and different and exciting. His daddy was proud of him, and thought he was beautiful, and he wanted to <em>reward</em> Stiles. Stiles <em>loved</em> when Noah rewarded him. And if the reward in question was the addition of Peter into their dynamic, then Stiles was perfectly willing - <em>eager,</em> even - to see how it played out. Because Noah had never done anything Stiles didn’t wind up loving, even if Stiles was sometimes hesitant at first, so he had absolute faith in Noah’s judgement.</p><p>Noah had said this was okay; that was good enough for Stiles.</p><p>So he stood still as Peter’s hands slid under the back of his sleep pants, cupping his ass and squeezing firmly. Stiles moaned softly, settling his hands lightly on Peter’s chest and peering up at the older man from under his eyelashes. Seconds later, Peter was kissing him. He licked quickly past Stiles’ teeth, ravaging his mouth with a greedy passion that was overwhelming in an entirely different way than Noah’s forceful, deliberate, domineering kisses were. Stiles briefly clutched Peter’s shirt, then - as Peter kissed along his shoulder, still kneading Stiles’ ass - hastily began undoing the buttons.</p><p>Peter jerked back and simply <em>yanked,</em> sending buttons pinging to the floor even as he shrugged off the now-ruined shirt and let it fall to the floor. He was on Stiles again a moment later, gripping the back of Stiles’ thighs and hauling him <em>up, </em>so fast that Stiles yelped and wound his arms around the werewolf’s shoulders as a spark of fear shot through him.</p><p>Peter chuckled even as he crossed the room and deposited Stiles on the bed. “Relax, pet. I wouldn’t drop you.” He leaned in and Stiles felt hot breath on the side of his throat for an instant before Peter growled and dipped his head lower, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ shoulder as he mumbled. “Not s’posed to touch your collar. But fuck, your <em>throat...”</em></p><p>“D-daddy can take it off...” Stiles gasped as Peter’s teeth - his <em>fangs</em> - scraped lightly over Stiles’ collarbone. It wasn’t enough to mark him - another thing Noah had forbidden, after all - but it was a threatening sort of tease that made Stiles’ head spin. “He doesn’t...doesn’t understand. About wolves a-and throats. Explain. He’ll take it off for you.”</p><p>“No.” Peter rumbled, as he drew back far enough to finally - <em>finally </em>- slide Stiles’ sleep pants off, baring him fully to the cool air of the bedroom and Peter’s heated gaze. “No, I rather like the look of it around your throat, even if it means I have to stay away.”</p><p>Grinning ferally, Peter reached out and curled one hand around the base of Stiles’ cock, adding. “And there’s plenty of you I <em>am</em> allowed to touch, isn’t there, pet? I’ll manage just fine.”</p><p>Stiles keened, hips canting up into Peter’s strong, sure grip. Seconds later he let out a sound he would deny was a scream - but which very probably <em>was</em> - as wet heat enveloped the head of his cock. He fisted his hands in the bedding beneath him, heels scrabbling against the sheets as he gasped and writhed. He had never felt anything like it, and his fevered fantasy imaginings didn’t even come close to the reality of Peter’s clever, wicked mouth around him. Stiles wanted to look - wanted to know what Peter looked like with Stiles’ cock in his mouth - but he couldn't. He couldn't, because if he <em>did,</em> it would all be over and that wasn’t allowed.</p><p>Noah hadn't yet given him permission to come.</p><p>He felt Peter’s hands settle on his hips even as the werewolf swallowed him down. <em>All</em> of him, and Stiles wasn’t huge but he wasn’t small either so it was an impressive feat. And <em>christ,</em> but Stiles was trying <em>so hard</em> to think of something - <em>anything</em> - other than the how fucking <em>amazing</em> Peter’s mouth was.</p><p>Trembling all over, Stiles gasped out. “S-stop...”</p><p>Peter let out a rumbling growl, the sound vibrating along Stiles’ cock, and drew back long enough to tease the head with his tongue before immediately lowering his head again, eagerly taking Stiles to the hilt once more.</p><p>When he felt the head of his cock hit the back of Peter’s throat, Stiles sobbed out the only word he could think of in his desperation. <em>“R-red!”</em></p><p>Immediately, Peter’s mouth was gone. A soothing hand was carding through his hair and Stiles’ whole body was wracked with shivers; he felt like he was going to shake apart if he wasn’t careful. He could hear Peter crooning at him, but he didn’t know how to answer. How to explain that, even now, that he was holding onto control by a tenuous thread that was in serious danger of snapping at any second. He pressed the heel of his hands hard against his eyes and took slow, measured breaths as he struggled to calm down; to ease himself back from that edge. <em>‘I didn’t do it. I was good. I didn’t do it.’</em></p><p>“Didn’t do what?” Peter asked, and it was only then that Stiles realized he’d been speaking out loud.</p><p>“He didn’t come without permission.” Noah said from the doorway, and Stiles’ whole body jerked at the sound of his dad’s voice, a whimper spilling past his lips.</p><p>“Of course he didn’t. I’d barely touched him when he safeworded.” Peter said, sounding confused. A quick peek at the werewolf showed the same confusion painted across his face. “I just don’t know <em>why</em> he safeworded.”</p><p>Noah chuckled. “I walked in right as he did, and I just told you why. I knew right away. He’s not allowed to come without permission. He needed you to stop so that didn’t happen, because you don’t know his body the way I do. You couldn't tell he was on the edge, so you weren’t helping him to hold back.”</p><p>Noah crossed the room, sitting on the bed next to Stiles’ hip and gently touching his son’s cheek. “I know he’s damn near the perfect submissive so it’s easy to forget he’s new at this, but he is.” Stiles watched his dad meet Peter’s eyes over his head, then felt his cheeks flame with mortification as Noah said. “That was the first time he’s had his pretty little cock in someone’s mouth. I’d imagine it was overwhelming.”</p><p>“Really?” Peter looked down at him, something delighted but predatory shining in his eyes. “Is that true, pet? Am I the only person who’s ever tasted you that way?”</p><p>Stiles nodded wordlessly, still a little embarrassed but also liking the way Peter was looking at him. The werewolf looked back at Noah and asked. “Why haven’t <em>you? </em>You’ve been with Stiles for months. I have to admit, I’m surprised.”</p><p>“That’s none of your business.” Noah said, shrugging slightly. When he noticed Stiles watching him, he added softly. “The dynamic between Stiles and me is...complicated.”</p><p>Peter hummed agreeably, clearly not intending to pick a fight or press the issue. He turned his attention back to Stiles and asked . “Can I resume what I was doing, sir? Stiles tastes <em>divine</em> and I was enjoying myself quite a lot.” A slow smile spread across his face as he purred. “Clearly, so was he.”</p><p>“Stiles?” Noah waited until Stiles met his eyes, then said. “Are you okay to continue?” When Stiles said nothing, Noah carded a hand through his hair before asking. “Color?”</p><p>“Y-yellow.” Stiles admitted, and it was the first time any color other than <em>green</em> had passed his lips. In truth, his recent utterance of <em>red</em> had been the first time he’d ever used his safeword, and he probably wouldn’t have if he hadn't been about to orgasm without permission.</p><p>He <em>liked</em> what had happened so far. And he <em>did</em> want to get Peter’s mouth back on his cock, because heaven knew it had felt amazing. But now that Noah was in the room as well, Stiles couldn't help wondering what was going to happen next. He trusted his daddy, but this was new territory. It wasn’t something they’d ever even <em>discussed.</em> Adding another person to the mix...they’d set no limits or rules for a situation like that. And that made him a little uncomfortable; a little uneasy.</p><p>“Okay. That’s okay.” Noah leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Stiles’ temple, murmuring. “This is new for you, baby boy. It’s okay to be nervous, or unsure. Why don’t you tell me what your concerns are, so we can work it out and then - assuming you’re in agreement - we’ll move forward.”</p><p>Stiles cut his eyes anxiously over to Peter, then mumbled. “I don’t want him to fuck me.”</p><p>“Then I won’t.” Peter said simply, much to Stiles’ relief. “I would never push for anything you weren’t willing to give, pet. I’d be content to merely observe, if that’s what you want. Anything more you’d like to allow is simply...icing on the cake.”</p><p>“Did you like Peter’s mouth on you?” Noah asked.</p><p>Stiles dropped his eyes, then said lowly. “You know I did, Daddy. I almost came.”</p><p>Noah hummed consideringly. “True, but that’s not what I meant. I’m glad he was giving you pleasure, but I want to know if you <em>liked</em> it. There’s a difference, and I want you to think about that for a minute before you answer.”</p><p>Stiles stopped and thought about that. He understood what his dad was asking. Just because something felt good on a physical level - just because his body responded - didn’t mean he actually liked it, or wanted it to happen. Finally, he said. “Yes. I liked it.”</p><p>“Okay. That’s good. I want you to like the things that happen between us, baby, whether it’s <em>just</em> us or if there’s others involved.” Noah locked eyes with him, then asked. “Do you think you’d like it if he touched you while his mouth was on you? If I took your plug out, and Peter slicked his fingers up and used them to open you up for my cock all while sucking you off?”</p><p>An involuntary shiver chased itself across Stiles’ skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. He licked his lips, but nodded. “I...yes. Yes, Daddy. I think I’d like that a lot, as long as it’s <em>your</em> cock that fills me up at the end of it all.”</p><p>“Of course, baby boy.” Noah’s attention turned to Peter again, then he said. “You don’t want Peter to fuck you, and that’s fine. Are you okay with him watching while <em>I</em> fuck you?”</p><p>“Yes, Daddy.”</p><p>The lack of hesitation made a smile appear, then Noah asked. “If he jerks off while watching, would you be okay with him coming on you?” Stiles watched his dad’s eyes darken as Noah added. “I’d like to see you all dirty and come-covered, baby, but if you don’t want to, that’s fine.”</p><p>Stiles licked his lips again, then blurted out the thought that popped into his head. “Can he come on my face, Daddy?”</p><p>Stiles had always wanted to try that. It seemed filthy and obscene and degrading, but in the<em> best </em>sort of way. Noah had never done that to him, preferring to spill himself while buried deep in Stiles’ ass whenever possible. And, barring that, he always spilled down Stiles’ throat. As such, Stiles had never had a chance to <em>try</em> getting dirty that way. He didn’t want to miss the opportunity, now that it had presented itself so perfectly.</p><p>
  <em>“Fucking hell.”</em>
</p><p>Peter muttered the expletive even as Noah sucked in a sharp breath, dark desire painting itself across his face as he murmured. “That’s <em>perfect,</em> baby boy. Just fucking perfect.”</p><p>He leaned down and kissed Stiles, hard and deep but utterly controlled. It made Stiles whimper but that was nothing new. Noah kissed the same way he did <em>everything</em> with Stiles. It was a combination of fierce need and commanding force and absolute control. It was a heady cocktail, and Stiles was pretty sure it was never going to stop making his head spin.</p><p>When he drew back from the kiss, Noah asked. “Will you taste him before he does, baby boy? Will you let him fuck your throat while I’m fucking your sweet little ass?”</p><p>The idea of it - of being pinned between the two men as they both thrust into him, one at each end - made Stiles whimper. The sound was high and needy and it might have embarrassed Stiles if he wasn’t so completely turned on. Stiles had seen enough porn to know the term for the act in question; knew it was called <em>spitroasting.</em> He tried to imagine what it would be like - what he would <em>look</em> like - with his dad’s cock filling his ass while Peter’s cock fucked its way into his throat. Stiles shivered again, another whimper spilling past his lips, because <em>fuck,</em> that was hot.</p><p>After swallowing to try to moisten his suddenly dry mouth, Stiles rasped.”Yes. Yes, Daddy. I think I’d like that a lot.”</p><p>Noah turned his attention to Peter and asked softly. “And you, Peter? Are you comfortable with the scene we just outlined and the limits that are set?”</p><p>“More than.” Peter reached out and caught Stiles’ chin in a light grip, his thumb tracing Stiles’ full lower lip as he murmured. “I couldn't begin to tell you how many times I’ve imagined this mouth wrapped around my cock. It’s temptation personified.”</p><p>Stiles felt his cheeks warming with another blush, but this one was caused by pleasure. He loved being told how desirable he was; how beautiful; how <em>perfect.</em> And while he definitely liked it best when Noah was the one praising and complimenting him, hearing it from Peter still made him feel warm and happy and loved. Or, if not <em>loved</em> precisely, then at least <em>cherished.</em> Which was, after all, practically the same thing.</p><p>Noah nodded, then said. “Color, baby boy?”</p><p>Feeling more sure of himself now that he knew what was going to happen - and no longer clinging to the edge of his control, either - Stiles softly offered. “I’m green, Daddy.”</p><p>The next few minutes were a bit of a blur as Noah directed the setup for the scene. Stiles was laid back across the bed, legs spread wide, both his heels and his ass resting on the edge of the mattress. Peter knelt on the floor beside the bed, shirtless but otherwise dressed. Noah rolled up the sleeves of his button-up and removed his belt, but nothing else. Stiles was used to that; to the way Noah liked to wait as long as possible before stripping. It always made him feel deliciously vulnerable, and the fact that Peter was still mostly clothed as well only enhanced the feeling. Noah set lube on the floor next to Peter, then reached over the other man’s shoulder to tap lightly on the base of Stiles’ plug.</p><p>“Ready, baby?” Noah asked, the same way he always did before a scene. It warmed something in Stiles every time, a soft reminder of how much care his dad took with him.</p><p>Stiles nodded. “Yes, Daddy.” The breathy agreement spilled from his lips, then Noah slid the plug out and Stiles whined softly, hating the empty feeling.</p><p>“Don’t worry.” Noah said, voice low and dark. “You won’t be empty for long. Peter’s going to take care of you, baby.”</p><p>And, sure enough, Peter was already leaning in. Peter’s nose pressed to the spot just behind Stiles’ balls as the werewolf breathed in deeply, letting out a rumbling growl. Stiles whimpered a moment later as a hot, agile tongue slid wetly over his hole before pressing inside, sending shivers of pleasure up Stiles’ spine. It stopped a moment later, at the same moment Peter hissed in pain and Noah <em>growled.</em></p><p>Stiles, panting heavily, looking down the length of his own body to find Noah with his hand fisted in Peter’s hair, obviously having yanked the man away from Stiles. For a moment, Peter <em>snarled,</em> clearly pissed off though he didn’t resist Noah’s grip. That was good; that was a relief, even, because Noah was the one who knew all of Stiles' limits and boundaries and Stiles was trusting his dad to enforce them if necessary. It was clear that if Peter crossed a line, Noah would intercede, before Stiles would even need to safeword.</p><p>When Noah spoke, his voice was sharp and cold. “I didn’t say you could put your tongue anywhere near Stiles’ ass, Peter.”</p><p>It was interesting, because Stiles knew Peter could get away from Noah’s punishing grip if he wanted to, but instead he stopped snarling and apologized. That was a relief, too, knowing that Peter was willing to accept Noah's authority. “Sorry, sir. He smelled so good I couldn't resist.” Then, he shot Noah a coy smile and purred. “He tastes like your come.”</p><p>Noah growled again, but released Peter and took a half-step back. “Stay within the limits of the scene, or you’ll leave. I don’t give second chances.”</p><p>Peter inclined his head and shifted back towards Stiles. As his tongue licked a hot, damp line up the length of Stiles’ cock, from base to tip, Stiles let his head fall back to the mattress. He closed his eyes and sank into the little jolts of pleasure skittering along his nerve endings as Peter places a series of quick little licks up and down Stiles’ erection. Part of him wished Noah had allowed Peter to continue rimming him; he’d never experienced <em>that</em> either and it had been hot in the most obscene sort of way, knowing Peter was tasting him <em>and</em> his dad at the same time. But Stiles had agreed to the scene's limits, so he didn’t argue the point. He would be sure to mention it to Noah later, though; just in case they decided to do this again.</p><p>He heard the quiet <em>snick</em> of the lube’s lid and a moment later Peter was sliding two fingers into him. Stiles groaned and fisted his hands in the sheets, anchoring himself as Peter’s mouth enveloped the head of his cock at the same time he twisted his fingers. Fireworks went off behind Stiles’ eyelids as Peter added a third finger, seeking out and finding Stiles’ prostate with unerring precision even as he slowly swallowed Stiles’ cock, inch by torturous inch.</p><p>Feeling his orgasm building again - not quite as fast as the first time, but quick enough to be worrying when he didn’t have permission yet - Stiles tried to focus on something - <em>anything </em>- else. Luckily for Stiles, Noah was speaking, so he let his mind latch onto his dad’s voice.</p><p>“-just like that, Peter. Take all of him.” Noah’s voice was almost as much of a growl as the werewolves Stiles ran with, hungry and heated and <em>predatory.</em> “Add another finger. He can take it. I know his hot little ass feels impossibly tight, but he always opens up <em>so</em> sweetly. And he likes it a little rough, so he can feel it for days.”</p><p>Stiles peeked over at his dad from under his lashes, and Noah met his gaze with a smirk. “Isn’t that right, baby boy? You like when it hurts a little bit, don’t you? Like remembering it every time you sit down and that delicious little ache starts up.”</p><p>“Y-yes, Daddy.” Stiles gasped, his back arching, head pressing into the mattress and baring the long column of his collar-bound throat as Peter swallowed around his cock while sliding a fourth finger inside him. “Fuck!” He cried out, one heel slipping off the bed as he keened and writhed.</p><p>Peter had Stiles’ leg hooked over his shoulder a moment later, not missing a beat as he continued bobbing his head, and Noah murmured. “Tell Peter, baby boy. Tell him how much you like this. Tell him how good he’s making you feel.”</p><p>“S’good...” Stiles gasped, and the talking helped anchor him against the rising tide of pleasure. But of course Noah knew that; it was no doubt why he’d suggested it. “Love the way you’re filling me up, sir...stretching me for Daddy’s cock...”</p><p>Peter rumbled around his mouthful, then drew back until only the head was in his mouth, his tongue swirling teasingly around the tip. Burning blue eyes meeting Stiles’ tawny ones, and he continued in a staccato rush of gasps and moans and pleading-praise. “Your mouth...nggghh, s-sir, I...oh, <em>fuck, </em>I n-need...I <em>want</em> to...”</p><p>Stiles’ hips twitched up, just a little, before he managed to still them. A sound that was almost a sob spilled from his lips, then he choked out. “P-please...<em>please, </em>sir...” He turned those damp doe-eyes on Noah and begged brokenly. <em>“D-daddy,</em> please, I...I c-can’t, I <em>can’t-”</em></p><p>He cut himself off with another strangled moan as Peter did...<em>christ,</em> Stiles didn’t even <em>know,</em> but it had felt amazing.</p><p>Noah’s hand settled itself in Peter’s hair as he ordered. “Stop, Peter.”</p><p>Peter’s wicked tongue and questing fingers fell still, but when he tried to draw back, Noah’s hand tightened in his hair and stopped him. “Not yet.” He murmured.</p><p>Peter stopped trying to pull away, seeming content to simply hold Stiles’ hard, aching length in his mouth while awaiting further instructions. Similarly, his fingers stayed buried in Stiles’ ass, no longer thrusting or touching his prostate but simple <em>there.</em> A fullness and a stretch, but nothing in any danger of sending Stiles tumbling over that edge. And still, it was a merciless sort of tease. A relentless pressure inside of him, and a deliciously wet heat surrounding him, but nothing that was offering him any sort of respite or relief or <em>release.</em></p><p>“Stiles.” Noah murmured, and Stiles obligingly met his dad’s eyes, teeth biting into his own lower lip as he desperately reminded himself that he couldn't just grind himself back against Peter’s fingers or fuck into Peter’s mouth. “Do you want to come?”</p><p>“D-daddy...” Stiles keened, nodding even as tears spilled over. They were born of pleasure and frustration and how utterly <em>overwhelming</em> all of this was, and Stiles’ voice was thick and damp as he answered. “Yes, Daddy...please, I...<em>please...”</em></p><p>“Two choices, baby.” Noah told him. “You can wait to come until I’m inside you and Peter’s fucking your throat.” He paused for a moment, then added. “Or you can come now. But if you come now, you don’t get a break or a rest. You come, and then Peter and I will take you, immediately. You know how sensitive you get after an orgasm. I think we can make you come again before we’re done. But it’s going to be a lot of stimulation. It might be overwhelming, and you won’t be able to safeword because you’ll have Peter’s cock in your throat. If you choose that option, you’ll get a safe-action.”</p><p>Stiles laid very still - as still as he could, considering the circumstances anyway - and considered his option. In the end, it was a simple enough choice. This whole situation was overwhelming, but there hadn't been a second of that Stiles hadn't thoroughly enjoyed. More than that, Stiles always loved when Noah fucked him after an orgasm. He <em>was</em> hypersensitive afterwards, and his whole body would light up with the slightest touch or movement. The idea of experiencing that with <em>two</em> people touching him made him feel greedy and eager.</p><p>Licking his lips, Stiles asked. “What’s my safe-action?”</p><p>Noah’s lips curved up into an approving smile, pride shining in his eyes as he looked down at his son. He released Peter’s hair long enough to retrieve his badge from the top of the dresser, then moved back to the side of the bed. He pressed the badge into Stiles’ palm, curling Stiles’ fingers around it. “If it’s too much for you and you need to stop, just hand this to one of us. We’ll stop the scene, same as if you said red. Do you understand, baby?”</p><p>“Yes, Daddy.” Stiles said, keeping a firm grip on the badge as his eyes tracked Noah’s movements.</p><p>His dad stepped back into position behind Peter - a place he could watch from, but also a position that made it easy for him to step in if he had to - then Noah murmured. “Alright, Peter.” He met Stiles’ eyes and added. “Make my baby boy come.”</p><p>Stiles’ head slammed into the mattress as he gasped, back bowing up off the bed. Peter had apparently taken Noah’s words to heart. His head bobbed quickly up and down, a steady rumbling vibrating along Stiles’ cock. His fingers thrust in and out of Stiles’ ass, hard and fast, and each push in had them pressing against his prostate. He had thought Peter was giving him pleasure before, but he realized now that the werewolf had merely been teasing him. This...this was so much <em>more.</em></p><p>If he hadn't been on the edge for so long - and if Peter’s mouth hadn't been <em>so fucking good</em> - Stiles might have been embarrased about just how quickly he spilled himself down Peter’s throat. And <em>fuck,</em> but that was a revelation in and of itself. The heat, and the suction, and the rumbling vibrations all served to extend his orgasm; drawing the pleasure out again and again until he felt stretched so thin he was sure he was about to shatter. By the time Peter’s fingers withdrew, his mouth leaving Stiles’ cock with one last maddening lick to the head, Stiles’ whole body was wracked with aftershocks. He couldn't seem to stop trembling, and the metal points on the sheriff’s star in his hand were digging into his palm, and he was vaguely concerned he might actually pass out.</p><p>He registered it dimly as strong hands - his dad’s or Peter’s or both, he wasn’t sure - shifted him on the bed until he was facing the opposite way. Body and legs solidly on the bed, Stiles’ head was now hanging over the edge of the mattress. He heard the quiet, rasping hiss of a zipper and, seconds later, something hot and firm and sticky-wet was pressing against his lips. Stiles immediately let his mouth fall open, eyes fluttering as Peter’s cock slid past his lips in one long, slow drag.</p><p>The sound of another zipper had him moaning softly around the heated flesh filling his mouth as Peter drew back enough for him to breathe, then immediately fucked back into his throat. Stiles took it with ease, more than used to the rough face-fucking treatment Noah favored. Peter was about as big as Stiles’ dad but he wasn’t <em>quite</em> as rough, though Stiles thought maybe he <em>would be, </em>once he was sure Stiles could handle it. That was fine.</p><p>The mattress shifted beneath him as his dad settled between his thighs, and Stiles spread them as far as he could, drawing his knees up at the same time. He made sure to drag his tongue over the head of Peter’s cock every time the man drew back, and did his best to keep up suction and mind his teeth the rest of the time, but the feel of Noah’s slacks against the inside of his thighs was a maddening distraction. While it was true that Noah liked to wait to strip, he didn’t usually fuck Stiles while still dressed. Except it seemed like that was <em>exactly</em> what Noah was doing now, and it made Stiles shiver and moan again.</p><p>Peter groaned at the vibration, his next thrust just a little rougher, and Stiles hummed happily while swallowing around Peter’s cock as it forced its way back into his throat. He loved having his mouth used like that; imagined it had to do with his oral fixation and was completely okay with that. The fact that he got to suck Peter off <em>while</em> getting fucked was like his birthday and Christmas and Halloween all rolled into one - a greedy, thrilling, fantastical high that Stiles planned to ride until he crashed.</p><p>Within a minute or so of Peter first fucking into his mouth, Noah’s cock was sliding into his ass. Stiles squirmed, writhing between the two men, as Noah roughed his way into that hot, slick channel. It was probably the most forceful he’d ever been, though Stiles thought maybe it was just that his perception was off. His nerves were still singing with pleasure from his recent orgasm and it seemed like he could feel <em>everything</em> in minute detail. His lips tingled as Peter’s cock moved quickly in and out of his mouth. His slick hole clenched greedily around Noah’s cock, muscles fluttering weakly with each pounding thrust into Stiles’ willing body. His cock - which Stiles was fairly sure had started hardening again before it was completely soft - leaked wetly across his stomach with every delicious thrust from the two men ravaging him.</p><p>Stiles’ hand - the one not clutching the sheriff’s star - reached out above his head and clutched at Peter’s thigh. Not to try to guide or control Peter’s thrusting - Stiles was happy to let the older men control the pace of things while he just enjoyed - but in an effort to brace his body against the driving force of Noah’s fucking.</p><p>“Uh-uh, pet.” Peter chided, capturing Stiles’ wrist and giving it a light squeeze before letting the teen’s hand fall back to the bed. “You take it how we give it to you like a good boy.”</p><p>Stiles whimpered, but didn’t try to touch Peter again. And anyway, Noah’s hands had settled on his hips, holding Stiles still has he slammed into him with what seemed like brutal force. Stiles’ face was wet now, saliva running over his jaw and neck and cheeks because Stiles never had managed to give a <em>neat</em> blowjob and, since his dad loved how messy he got, he’d never even <em>tried.</em> There were also tears, hot and salty as they blended with sweat and spit on his skin, and Stiles wasn’t sure when he’d started crying or <em>why,</em> he just knew that he <em>was</em> and he didn’t think he could stop. Noah’s cock was slamming into his prostate, over and over, and Stiles wasn’t even surprised because in the months since they’d started this, his dad had never once failed to make Stiles come on his cock.</p><p>Stiles would have liked to say he lasted longer the second time around. That having just orgasmed had given him the staying power to draw this out; to make it last. But the truth was, Stiles was most sensitive after an orgasm and wringing a second - or even a third - one from him only got progressively easier. It might be possible to bump that number to four, but Stiles honestly didn’t know because the handful of occasions when Noah had tried, Stiles had passed out after orgasm number three. Further testing was obviously required, but that wasn’t really the point.</p><p>The point, as it were, was that Stiles’ body seemed determined to betray him in this matter and he found himself teetering on that edge again in short order. A sob caught in the back of his throat, muffled by Peter’s thick cock but still discernible.</p><p>Noah growled, voice low and dark and he spoke. “You gonna come again, baby boy? Gonna spill all over your own tummy, huh?” Stiles sobbed again, squeezing his eyes shut and trying <em>so hard</em> to stave off the release; to make this last just a <em>little</em> bit longer.</p><p>Noah laughed, husky and a little bit cruel, voice taunting as he added. “You are, aren’t you? Gonna make a mess of yourself. You like being stuffed full of cock that much, baby boy? You like having two big, fat cocks in you at the same time?”</p><p>Stiles’ fingers twitched around the badge in his hand, his chest heaving futilely as he tried to pull in air around the increasingly rough and rapid thrusts of Peter’s cock. His body jerked and writhed, torn between moving towards or away from Noah’s cock as it speared into him over, and over, and over again, utterly unrelenting. His dad’s words echoed loudly in his ears, sharper and harsher than anything he’d ever said to Stiles before. He trembled, more tears spilling from his eyes until he was crying in earnest, everything pushing him closer to the point of release.</p><p>“Such a pretty little whore.” Noah crooned, moving closer to Stiles’ body. He braced one hand beside Stiles’ ribs and - careful to stay out of Peter’s way - leaned in far enough to drag his tongue over Stiles’ cheek, tasting his tears. “I love seeing you like this, baby. Choking on Peter’s cock while I fuck your sweet little ass.”</p><p>And suddenly Peter’s voice was joining the mix, a dangerous growl that had Stiles foolishly squeezing his eyes shut even tighter as though that might help block out the sound. “Look at you, pet, writhing on your daddy’s cock. You don’t even need anybody to touch you. You’ll come just from us using you this way, won’t you? Filthy little cockslut...”</p><p>Noah growled as well, straightening up again and driving into Stiles’ with renewed vigor. <em>“My</em> little cockslut, right baby boy? Such a needy little whore...all you want is your daddy’s cock, all the time...but that’s not even enough is it? No, you needed more. Needed <em>Peter’s</em> cock, too, didn’t you, baby?”</p><p>Stiles sobbed again, and it had him gagging on Peter’s cock as he tried to breathe and couldn't, his throat spasming viciously around the head of it as it slammed into the back of his throat again. Peter groaned, all but grinding his cock into Stiles’ throat. “Fuck yes, pet...choke on it, there’s a good boy...”</p><p>His fingers twitched around the sheriff’s star again, but he didn’t let it go; didn’t drop it; didn’t press it into Peter’s or Noah’s hand. Instead, his whole body tensed up, every muscle going taut as a bowstring, the heat of humiliation and shame and desire coalescing like fire in his blood.</p><p>“That’s it, baby, just like that.” Noah panted, still driving into him with jarring force. “I want you to come for Daddy. Clench this sloppy, fucked-out hole around my cock, baby, come on...”</p><p>And Stiles <em>wanted</em> to, he really did. He was poised on the edge, but he couldn't seem to slide off the other side no matter how hard he tried. Everything was just driving him higher; becoming <em>too much</em> while at the same time never being quite enough. This time when he sobbed, it was as much frustration as anything else, because Stiles wasn’t allowed to touch his own cock without permission and he knew his dad wouldn’t do it for him. Noah liked when Stiles spilled untouched and, unless he was putting on a show for Noah, that was the <em>only</em> way he came anymore. Stiles wanted to shake his head; wanted to admit that he <em>couldn't,</em> even though he always had before. But he couldn't do that either, because the only way to do so was to stop things entirely, and <em>that</em> Stiles didn’t want. Not at all.</p><p>“Come on, Stiles.” Noah groaned. “Make your ass nice and tight for Daddy.” He thrust a few more times, then added in a tone that was almost threatening. “You’re so loose and open right now...maybe next time I’ll let Peter fuck you, too. Would you like that, baby boy? You think your slutty little ass can take two cocks at once?”</p><p>And Stiles <em>shattered.</em></p><p>Stiles knew he was shaking, and sobbing, and once again choking on Peter’s cock. From the way his dad was groaning, grinding hard into his ass, Stiles knew his body was tightening in rhythmic spasms around Noah’s cock. And from the slick heat now coating his stomach, Stiles knew he’d just orgasmed, making a mess of himself and probably the bed as well. But these were all things he knew in only the vaguest way, because his brain and body were on overload. Pleasure screamed its way along his nerve endings, so acute it was almost pain. His muscles locked up, then melted until they were limp and pliant. He knew both men were still thrusting, chasing their own pleasure, but it didn’t matter. He was like a ragdoll between them; he offered neither resistance nor aid.</p><p>When he could suddenly breathe easily, Stiles registered dimly that Peter had pulled out of his mouth. His eyes fluttered open the slightest bit to see that Peter’s hand was frantically stripping his cock. As he watched through his eyelashes, Peter panted. “Gonna...fuck, I’m <em>so</em> clo-” He choked on a moan, then asked Noah in a voice that <em>dripped </em>sex. “Can I come, Daddy? Can I come on Stiles’ pretty face?” Stiles almost wished he had enough energy to properly appreciate both the words and the tone, but it was okay because his dad seemed to, at least.</p><p>Noah groaned. “Fuck. <em>Fuck.</em> Yesss...” He hissed, hips stuttering in a staccato rhythm that told Stiles how close <em>he</em> was to release. “Do it, Peter.”</p><p>The command - or perhaps the permission - was all Peter had needed. Stiles barely got his eyes closed again before Peter was spilling himself. Sticky-wet heat painted his face in dripping stripes. It slid down his cheeks, and across the bridge of his nose. It splattered onto his lips, and Stiles parted them so some of the next pulse hit his tongue, salty and bitter-sharp. He felt it running down his chin and landing on his throat. Stiles wondered vaguely if any of it had gotten onto his collar; wondered how Noah would react if it had. But then his dad was groaning again, and stilling above him, and Stiles cautiously opened his eyes to watch as ecstasy washed over Noah’s face.</p><p>Peter seemed to be done and a quick peek up showed the werewolf watching with interest as Noah spilled himself inside of Stiles. Noah fell forward, catching himself on one hand and did his best to catch his breath. When he had, he shot a sharp look at Peter and said. “Plug.”</p><p>Stiles wasn’t sure where it had wound up, but Peter found it quickly enough. He passed it to Noah, who let his softening cock slip from Stiles’ ass and then, a heartbeat later, slipped the plug into its place. Stiles sighed softly, relieved at not having to be empty, and let his eyes close again. Stiles knew he was safe; he trusted his dad to take care of him. Strong hands once again moved him, this time so he was settled more comfortably on the bed, closer to the middle. The sheriff’s badge was prised from his hand, which had still been clenched tightly around it, and he relinquished it readily now that the scene was over. There were some soft sounds as someone - or perhaps both of them - moved around the room, but Stiles couldn't be bothered to look and see who, or why.</p><p>A minute or two later, Stiles felt a hand drag over his stomach, gathering his release, and forced himself to open one eye out of curiosity. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of Peter licking his come-covered hand and wondered where his dad was. Noah - nude at last - appeared in the doorway a moment later, a damp washcloth in one hand. His eyes locked on Peter’s mouth and the hand he was licking, and he <em>snarled.</em> Stiles flinched a little when Noah stormed over to Peter and fisted a hand in the werewolf’s hair, because so far Peter had behaved but if Noah pushed too hard, Stiles was worried Peter would hurt him.</p><p>Except Noah didn’t yell, or chastise, or threaten. Instead, he <em>kissed</em> Peter. It was the same sort of slow, controlled, demanding kiss he so often gave Stiles, and Stiles’ stomach did a slow swoop at seeing it used on someone else. Peter hummed into the kiss, clearly giving back as good as he got, and Stiles couldn't have stopped the whimper he let out if he’d tried.</p><p>Noah drew back, huffing out an amused laugh as he murmured. “We’re supposed to be taking care of my son right now, Peter. Stop distracting me.”</p><p>“All I wanted was a taste.” Peter drawled, his face the picture of innocence though Stiles didn’t believe it for a minute.</p><p>“Like you didn’t get enough of one earlier.” Noah said softly as he sat himself beside Stiles’ hip. He reached out and gently bathed Peter’s come from Stiles’ face, murmuring. “You did so good, baby boy. I’m so proud of you.”</p><p>Stiles hummed softly as the washcloth moved lower, cleaning his throat and then down his torso to his belly and cock. Once he was clean, Stiles stretched languidly, feeling as relaxed as a well-fed cat in a patch of sunlight. He heard both men make appreciative noises and smiled slightly, asking. “Cuddles?”</p><p>“Of course.” Noah agreed, and Stiles felt himself being shifted around until he was the little spoon, his dad a wall of heat and strength behind him. A moment later, Noah asked. “Where are you going?”</p><p>“I assumed you two would want some privacy.” Peter’s voice was quiet, as though he were worried about waking Stiles up, though he wasn’t sleeping; not yet. <em>‘Or,’</em> Stiles thought to himself. <em>‘Maybe he’s trying not to overstep with Dad.’</em></p><p>Noah tsked quietly. “Get in bed, Peter. Aftercare is important for doms as well as subs, and you were a little of both tonight anyway.”</p><p>“Mmmm...” Stiles agreed, opening one eye and making a grabby-hand motion at Peter. “C’mon, Peter. It’s snuggle time.”</p><p>There was a moment of hesitation, then the werewolf shimmied out of his slacks and joined them on the bed. He faced Stiles and Noah, curling himself around Stiles from the front in a sort of mirror image of the sheriff. It was, for Stiles, a bit like being wrapped in a cocoon. He felt encased; protected; <em>cherished.</em></p><p>Peter rumbled that strange werewolf purr that Stiles was slowly coming to love. “Thank you both, for letting me be a part of your scene tonight.”</p><p>“Thank you for joining us.” Noah replied, voice just as soft and soothing. “We’ll need to discuss it, but I think Stiles and I would both be open to doing it again.”</p><p>“Yup.” Stiles agreed around a huge yawn, soaking up the way Peter was carding clawed fingers through his hair like the best sort of scalp massage while Noah pressed light kisses along the back and top of his shoulder. “S’fun. Good.”</p><p>“Sleep, baby.” Noah told him even as Stiles’ eyes drifted closed. “We’ll talk later. I love you.”</p><p>“Mmmm...love you, Daddy.” Stiles mumbled, barely awake now. He nuzzled into Peter’s chest and added on a sigh. “Love you, Peter.”</p><p>~*~*~*~</p><p>Peter met Noah’s eyes over the top of Stiles’ head, shock washing over him. And yet, the response fell from his lips with ease. “I love you, too, Stiles.”</p><p>The deep, even cadence of Stiles’ breathing let him know the boy had fallen asleep. Uncertain now, he said softly. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it. It was an overwhelming evening and he was no doubt exhausted.”</p><p>“I’m sure he <em>did</em> mean it.” Noah countered, shocking Peter almost as much as Stiles’ sleep-murmured declaration had. “Stiles has always been one to give his heart freely. His mother was the same way. It’s one of the things I loved best about her, and I love it about Stiles, too.”</p><p>He studied Peter calmly, then asked. “Did <em>you</em> mean it?”</p><p>Peter nodded, helpless to do anything else and unwilling to lie. Not about this.</p><p>He flinched when Noah’s hand reached out, then tensed as it curled around the back of his neck, squeezing tightly for a moment. It slid up into his hair and at that Peter melted, all of the tension easing out of his body between one heartbeat and the next. “Rest, Peter. Stiles isn’t the only one who did good tonight. We’ll talk in the morning.”</p><p>Peter let his eyes closed, but he felt the need to offer reassurance. “I wouldn’t take him from you.”</p><p>Noah laughed softly. “You couldn't if you tried. Stiles is mine. His heart belongs to me.” After a slight pause, he added. “But that doesn’t mean there’s not a place for you here.”</p><p>Peter rumbled again, unable to stop the sound of contentment from rising in his chest. It had been a long time since he’d felt like he belonged - <em>really</em> belonged - somewhere. But this, with Stiles and Noah, felt right in a way nothing else ever had. Without really meaning to, he mumbled. “G’night, Daddy.”</p><p>As he hovered on the edge of sleep, he felt Noah lean across the teenage boy between them and press a tender kiss to his temple, murmuring. “Sleep, Peter. Daddy will watch over you.”</p><p>And Peter believed him.</p><p>
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    <strong>~ Fin ~</strong>
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